


Better Homes and Gardens

by nobetterlove



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, BAMF Tony Stark, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Porn With Plot, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, brief peter parker/quentin beck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterlove/pseuds/nobetterlove
Summary: Peter Parker is running on mixed up feelings when Quentin kicks him out of their apartment. To make matters worse, he's beat up and mugged. Getting back on his feet, MJ suggests taking boxing classes at Iron Man's Boxing Gym. The gym owner? No one other than Tony Stark. Filling in for Happy on a Wednesday night, Tony's life is changed when a very cute and insanely interesting stranger walks through the doors of his gym. All good things the Starker way!
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark, Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 174





	Better Homes and Gardens

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> I obviously live in a realm where only AUs exist. I watched Iron Man 2 on the ten year anniversary and this beauty was born. I wanted to replace Natasha with Peter and see how a whole verse set around Tony Stark liking the way Peter looked taking down Happy would fare. It turned out pretty well and I'm excited to share it with you guys. 
> 
> Oh & Taking Back Sunday's Better Homes and Gardens was the inspiration for this one. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_It was all for nothing, it was all a waste._

When he thought closely about it, Quentin forcing him out the door was the only real ending that made sense. For the two years they’d been together, Peter let the man control everything about them – and the couple they ended up becoming. Letting someone take advantage of his vulnerability could only end one way – that vulnerability being exposed. Quentin was the perfect representation of hope at the end of the tunnel after May died. He offered protection and to some extent, a love that only someone manipulative could give to another person.

The more on his feet Peter started to become, the less Quentin wanted to do with him. Peter felt him pulling away long before he walked into their shared apartment to his boyfriend in bed with the neighbor across the hall. And to think, all twenty-five years of his life fit into a duffle bag and a couple milk creates. Walking out of that apartment was both the worst and best moment of his life. Freedom felt nice, if just a little heavy with an angst he couldn’t help but feel. The thought of being reduced down to so little made him full body cringe – but there had to be worse things.

Things that were worse weren’t very far off, though. It’d been a long time since he’d been out late at night by himself – especially hauling a couple cases worth of goods, even if nothing in anything he was carrying was worth a goddamn penny. Just blocks outside of MJ’s apartment, Peter felt his skin start to prickle, like he was being watched, or something. The subway ride from upper Manhattan back to Queen’s was pretty miserable, so he already felt a little irritable. Picking up his pace a little, Peter felt that irritability very quickly change to fear. His fingers were achy from carrying the crates all over the place, but he gripped the slim handles tighter, anyway.

The alley they ended up cornering him in used to house his favorite pizza parlor. Maggiano’s went out of business ages ago – the alley, though, it was just as dark and creepy as it’d always been. The first punch made the right side of his face go numb, and the second one brought him to his knees. With the milk crates filled with personal memories and picture frames that were almost as old as he was on the ground, it was much easier to curl in on himself and keep the beating as far from his stomach as he could.

Coming to in a hospital wasn’t the greatest thing – the last time it happened, his parents were both dead and he’d suddenly become a burden to his Aunt May. This time, he was alone, and all of his belongings were forgotten in an alley way or well on their way to being sold in a pawn shop. The fracture to his cheek would eventually heal and probably not affect the way he looked, but when MJ came to pick him up, even that news couldn’t keep him from feeling so very helpless, so very weak. The flannel he’d been wearing that night was the only thing he had left from the before times – the blood stain on the cuff of it the ultimate reminder of what happened and how very hopeless it’d been.

With the help of MJ, Peter physically got on his feet pretty quickly. In all of the chaos, Peter managed to keep his computer software job – which easily paid enough for him to get a modest apartment. An apartment that, for the first time in his life, would be his and only his. The concept was everything Peter wanted – freedom, his voice being the only voice heard, a chance to spread his wings and fly on his own for a while. Yet, in a lot of ways, it felt a little scary to Peter, too. Up until now, he had someone with his interest scheduled into their priority list somewhere. May tried to make him into the son she could never have and Quentin – well, at least he gave Peter somewhere to call home for a while. Truly being on his own, for the very first time in his entire life, it was a little daunting – and made the psychological step of getting back on his feet a little harder.

Getting into the apartment was easy. Peter was pretty smart about the way he spent his money and set his credit up early – so he was set in that aspect. The art of finding comfort in his own place did not come easily, however. Many nights, he called MJ to come walk home from work with him, even if he had to drop money on the fancy Thai food. A long time ago, they’d come to the realization that they were friends and friends only – but having her there, it made him feel better. At least he wasn’t alone and if something were to try and get him, there’d be another person to have his back – to make him feel like he wasn’t the last helpless person on the planet. It was taxing for her, he knew it. MJ’s career was just getting off the ground too and having to come to Peter’s rescue more often than not was nowhere near practical. It seemed like she got it, though – so Peter clung to her as tightly as he could for as long as he could.

MJ presented the idea for Iron Man’s Boxing Gym three months to the date after the attack. Peter was slowly starting to get his comfortability back and it was becoming very clear that he needed just a little bit of a push to take that final step. She thrust the flyer into his hands unexpectedly. They’d been playing Call of Duty and exchanging the control every other death – a flyer for a boxing gym was the last thing he expected to have in his hands when he next looked up. “What’s this, MJ? It looks like we’re only a kill or two away from getting a top spot,” Peter said, his eyes and focus still on the game despite their character’s immobility on the screen.

A quick hit of a button and the game was effectively paused, the controller hit the floor and MJ’s hand was pressing against his knee affectionately. “It’s a push in the right direction. I think you should check this place out. You might find that last bit of safety you’re looking for.”

Peter desperately wanted to ignore MJ’s suggestion. In fact, he went three whole days before he pulled the flyer off the floor and straightened it out – the address now readable and just as easy to Google. The place looked clean and the rate wasn’t too out of his price range – why shouldn’t he figure out more about himself behind a pair of boxing gloves? Peter might have been helpless for a point in his life, but he was athletic and with a bit of knowledge – he could probably have that final piece of security in his back pocket to feel better again. Whatever feeling better again actually meant.

The gym ended up being something that looked way better once you got into the door. Since the gym needed so much space, the location was a little out of the way – and for a singular second, Peter let himself feel a little scared. There weren’t any fancy advertisements in the windows or flashing neon signs – Iron Man’s Boxing Gym spoke for itself. Which made a lot of sense when he walked in to see four rows of two boxing rings deep and a whole corner filled with heavy bags with space to dance between them. The makeshift weight room was set up along the back corner – all and all, it screamed Rocky and Peter was immediately hooked. The sign-up process consisted of getting his name and number and putting down a credit card for the lessons done every Wednesday night.

He felt a little silly, standing in the cluster of himself and five others, waiting for his first ever class to start, and yet, at the same time, the good kind of anticipation sat waiting in the depths of his muscles, too. After doing research on all the best ways to wrap a wrist and cover his fingers, Peter was certain he had the proper supplies – he was ready for whatever Boxing 101 had to offer. Peter didn’t really know what to expect walking into the ordeal – but he for sure knew he wasn’t expecting the instructor who bounced into the room to be so goddamn hot. The man was a little older, maybe mid-thirties – and ruggedly handsome. The slightest hint of grey was starting to overtake his temples, and a huge scar stood stagnant above the man’s right eye – the look one that shouted experience and endless practical knowledge. He was hot – so insanely hot.

Settling into the warm-up, Peter noticed that most people were watching the man with a keen eye, both the men and women alike. He couldn’t remember a time when people paid that close of attention to another person – except when they were in the same coffee shop as Eminem, but he was a celebrity. Eyes widening, Peter wondered if the man leading him through a relatively efficient dynamic warm-up was in fact someone he should know – someone that was worth watching so avidly. Soon, the ability to think was no longer within his grasps, and Peter lost track of the thoughts scratching at the front of his mind. By the hundredth time he’d transferred his weight from heel to toe and tripped over the jump rope, Peter’s only thought was surviving and walking out of the place with all of his toes exactly where they should be.

The intense way his t-shirt and hoodie were soaked with sweat made him smile when Peter sat down at the edge of the ring – his first lesson over and done with. He felt completely spent and his elbow was raw from the insane amount of times he’d eaten shit throughout the footwork portion of the 90 minutes – but he couldn’t help but feel totally successful, too. He already felt a little safer in his own skin and he’d barely broken into the basics of what boxing and hand-to-hand combat could entail. He let the last couple drops of the water bottle flow down his neck, eyes closing in a new kind of delight. Peter rested there for another couple of minutes, then went about getting his hands free from the wraps and his feet out of the high laced shoes. Coming down from the ring, Peter was surprised to see the instructor from earlier looking over at him – the older man’s smile wide and inviting.

“You’re a new face. I hope you enjoyed yourself,” the man said – his hand out between them before Peter could even process the words. “I’m Tony Stark, you’ve got quite the left hook.” Tony’s eyes were on him, the look one of curiosity and genuine interest. Peter returned the handshake after a second, his brain short-circuiting slightly – the man really was insanely handsome.

“Nice to know you, Tony. I’m Peter – Peter Parker. Glad to hear I didn’t look like a total idiot out there,” Peter kept the hand in his for a second longer, than let it drop – the smile on his face cool, despite the developing feeling of freak out that was swimming in his chest.

“You’re a natural, Peter Parker – we’ll have you dancing around the ring in no time,” Tony replied coolly, his smile growing. A hand with a large palm and long fingers reached up to brush through the hair on Tony’s temple and he was hooked.

Peter felt his face heat as they shared a look – one that lingered for who knows how long. He forced himself to tear his eyes away and get the hell out of there. He’d be damned if he made a fool out of himself so soon into meeting this guy. “Here’s hoping. I’ll see you next week, Tony,” Peter felt himself hold his breath as he walked away, a weaker part of him screaming to turn around and flirt, flirt, flirt – the vibe he was getting was absolutely attraction. Instead, he kept his eyes down and only let himself breath when he was out the door. Holy fuck, Peter thought to himself, maybe this whole boxing experience would be a lot better than he initially expected.

\----

Tony watched with avid attention as the attractive, yet incredibly strange young man kept coming back to the gym. Picking up that certain Wednesday class happened purely by accident. Happy slept through an alarm and grumpily guilted Tony into covering for him. It’d been a long time since he’d done anything in a bigger than one-to-one setting and it took a couple weeks to get into the flow of it. Most of the people were probably there to catch of a glimpse of what a retired MMA fighter looked like or see what a washed-up athlete did for a living once they were no longer young and spry – primped and ready for action. Most people would be surprised to know that retired athletes lived the exact way they’d done their whole career – just without the notoriety and fame.

After the third week of letting his eyes catch the vision that was Peter Parker moving easily throughout the ring, Tony figured there was another thing contributing to his enjoyment of these classes, too. For whatever reason, the older man could not stop himself from watching Peter. Despite not having much footwork knowledge, the guy was pretty good with his hands and very fast. Whenever they did bag drills, Peter’s hands moved a mile a minute – the sight of it hypnotizing, reminding Tony of the original reason he let himself get lost in the boxing world so long ago. Sometimes, it just felt good to hit things. The more comfortable Peter seemed to become, the better he got – a thing that did not go unnoticed by Tony. For the most part, his idea to offer training to Peter on an individual basis came from a purely innocent level. It seemed like he wanted to learn about boxing, and he had the skill and the modicum of potential it took to at least try to be good – why shouldn’t Tony extend the help?

The answer to that question came a couple minutes later when Tony felt his eyes roaming over that delicious back side – the man bent over to tie his shoes, the wraps on his hands making it a comedic performance instead of the simple task that it was. The uncontrolled part of Tony yearned to walk over there and bend down – take a knee in front of Peter to tie his shoe and see what it was like to see the other man from that position. The dryness in his mouth was a little silly – it hadn’t been that long since he’d gotten laid. Although, it had been a long time since the craving for another person like this reared its ugly head. He could still feel the ghost of Steve’s hands covering his skin – on the days he lets himself think too much about it, it’s almost like the man is still there. Shaking his head, Tony ran the last couple of drills before gathering the remaining four people around – his face heavy with a genuine smile.

“Good work today, guys. It has been pretty cool to watch you all develop. I think it’s time to put what we’ve been learning into some practical situations – so next week, we’ll be partner sparing in the ring. You guys are ready, and it’ll be the first real experience with what boxing is really like.” Tony could see all the smiles that came from his words and felt good about the suggestion. There wasn’t a written curriculum for this sort of thing and the move felt right – so he went with it. He’d let Happy off the hook with the class after that first week, the least he could do is come in and act as a ring coach, or something. For the first time since retirement, Tony felt good about something. Funny that it took stepping back and watching a bunch of beginners succeed.

Everyone started to pack up not long after that, each person leaving with a quick nod Tony’s direction, or a high five for the friendlier guy of the group. The gym emptied out quickly until it was just Tony and Peter – this week’s occurrence not amongst the first time. “Hey, Pete. Want to work a little extra? I’ve got some time to hold the pads for you,” the words were out of Tony’s mouth before he could stop himself. He couldn’t pinpoint what made him decide to extend the offer, but the smile on Peter’s face when he saw the guy nodding made the impulse worth it. Even if his arms were tired from fatigue and a hamburger from Bucky’s down the street was calling his name. “Sure, Tony – I could use a little extra practice.” Peter’s voice was bright, like he was filled with a never-ending amount of energy and goodness. Smiling to himself, Tony nodded and grabbed the striking pads – decision made.

Bouncing on his toes, he instructed a one-two punch with the left hand leading, the man in front of him obviously better on his left side. Peter went through the drill easily, the slap of the pads loud in the otherwise empty gym. “So, what brought you here, Peter Parker?” Tony asked in the break between switching feet – Peter was talented and could probably keep up a conversation while moving around. Unsurprisingly, Peter hit the pad a little harder and started to speak.

“I got some of my safety stripped from me, so I wanted to get it back,” the other man answered simply.

Tony shifted onto the back of his foot and dropped the pads, his arms heavy by his sides. “Sounds about right. Glad you decided to come do it here. Are you feeling any better? Safer, I mean?” Tony fired back, his shoulders rolling before he had the pads back up and they were moving around the ring again.

The other’s focus was on the pads for a couple silent moments, Tony counting the breaths between each hit – the man glad that Peter listened when he instructed them on breathing rhythm a couple weeks ago. His eyes were alight watching the rhythmic beat of Peter’s fists against the meat of the pad. “Yeah, a lot, actually. To be honest, this is the best I’ve ever felt. It feels nice to just – let go and hit something every now and again, you know?” Peter’s words were enhanced with more punches to the pad, the guy throwing strikes freestyle.

Tony nodded at the rhetorical question and kept his hands firmly in front of his face, if he wasn’t careful, he’d take one right to the cheek. The heaviness of his feet and hands had him holding up the gloves in surrender a few minutes later, the sweat on his chest making him feel cold – the lack of carbohydrates and water becoming very evident. “I think that’s it for me, Petey. Good work.”

It was easy to climb out of the ring after Peter and collapse back against the side of it, his entire body in the clutches of fatigue. The feeling was the best and Tony let it wash over him and hold him under – the worst part of being retired was the lack of rush that could only come from getting somewhere when there was nothing left to get there with. On the verge of shutting down fatigue was the only way he even got close – so he reveled in it, the quake of his muscles the most intoxicating thing he’d felt in ages. “Any chance you like greasy cheeseburgers?” Tony asked after a while, the man gathering enough energy to get the padded gloves off his hands and his ring shoes off his feet – the sweaty remains of his clothes the only reminder of the past three hours spent. Tony waddled over to the open door of his office and started to take of his sleeveless hoodie before he heard Peter speak.

“Do you know people that don’t like greasy cheeseburgers?” Looking up, Tony stopped short, the vision of Peter leaning into the open doorway of his office tantalizing – on the verge of ‘should be illegal’.

Tony fumbled with the spare shirt he brought in his gym bag and shrugged into it, the Ugg slippers he always wore after the fact on his feet, the comforting warmth of the lining really the only way to feel relaxed after exerting his body so. “I’m sure they’re out there. I try not to spend too much time with them, though – “ Tony muttered his reply, his hands busy shrugging a flannel on and shouldering his bag. “There’s a great place just down the street. Want to come? I’ll buy you a milkshake.” Tony reached a hand out and grabbed the younger guy’s arm, his fingers lingering for a second. He let his hand drop and walked out the door, his body now turned towards Peter completely.

“That sounds like a hard thing to pass on. I’m in,” Peter replied and brushed passed him, the touch from earlier fully returned. Tony grinned and leaned forward to pull the door closed, locking it when he heard the latch click.

“I knew you were smart,” Tony fiddled with the keys in his hands while he spoke, the tactile distraction enough to keep the threatening blush at bay. “Buck makes a patty melt that will knock you on your ass. It’s the best in the city.” It didn’t hurt that Bucky was one of his closest friends, or that when Bucky came back from the desert – Tony welcomed him back with open arms and the helping hand he needed to open the greasy spoon. There were many things people did not know about Tony Stark – things like how generous he was, things like how close he kept his friends – how well he took care of them. While he and Peter walked closely together on the Brooklyn streets, Tony got a feeling that Peter was going to be one of those people – a somebody he kept close, took care of. Bumping his shoulder into the other man’s, Tony figured there were worse things in life.

Like, for instance – a lack of fried potatoes to go with the admittedly delicious collection of toasted sourdough, all beef patties, and the perfect combination of thousand island dressing, mayo, and fried onions. The lack of fries brought the experience way down – though, didn’t seem to effect Peter Parker a single bit. His mother always told him the way to someone’s heart was through their stomach – and she didn’t seem to be wrong now. Peter enjoyed life to the fullest and let every piece of food rest in his mouth before he chewed it – the savoring of each flavor obvious, and totally distracting. When he swallowed it, the impatient puppy masked twenty-something took another eager bite – the man never going a time when he didn’t look like a chipmunk storing nuts. The whole thing made Tony’s heart beat a little faster – and admittedly made him a little sick, but the affection of the moment easily won out.

“What do you do when you’re not hitting people for fun?” Peter asked through a mouthful of chocolate shake.

“I like to dabble with car parts and watch shit TV, to be honest with you,” Tony replied, his mouth equally full – the words the most honest ones Tony could remember saying to another person. He saw Peter light up at the mention of car parts and the rest of their time together was spent between discussing what it was like to take apart an entire vehicle and put it back together. Peter said he always wanted to try it but never had the space to do so and hung on every one of Tony’s words. By the time he was waving to Peter heading in the opposite direction, Tony knew he was done for – the thought both terrifying and exciting all at once.

Shaking his head, Tony ran a hand through his hair and headed back towards the gym – a delighted hitch in his step evident the entire way back.

\----

Peter waited anxiously for the following Wednesday. Following his impromptu meal with Tony, Peter found himself slung over the end of MJ’s bed, gushing about the entire interaction. Harboring a seemingly one-sided crush was one thing. Since his first lesson, they’d been debating Tony’s actions towards Peter and were still on the fence – but he felt pretty sure about it now. Dancing around another person wasn’t usually his thing – the uncertainty gave him anxiety, and that was never any fun. Peter found himself craving the steady rock from his toes to the balls of his feet, though – the man enjoying what boxing had to offer in all ways possible. He felt safer, that was for sure – he was probably in the best shape of his life and could now successfully throw a punch without breaking anything. More confidence came each week, his fists hitting the bag with more force and speed – each punch more efficient than the last. It didn’t hurt that he could feel chocolate brown eyes roaming him appreciatively, either – the touch of them merely adding fuel to his fire.

The more confident Peter felt in the ring, the more confident he felt elsewhere, too. His job was going spectacularly well, his boss even considering him for a promotion he wasn’t even sure he qualified for. It felt good to get up and go to work, his office a place where he excelled – and the freedom of actually believing in his strength brought along so many things Peter never knew he was missing. He felt so good going into Wednesday’s class, the determination to ask Tony out settled into his mind and became more permanent of a decision the closer the day got. Peter couldn’t recall a time he felt this good – and he wanted to include all the aspects of life in that, including the personal bit he’d been purposefully avoiding since the bitterly disappointing ending of his previous relationship. A grin came to his face any time he thought about what being out with Tony would be like – the man’s mystery keeping all the possibilities misted with the slightest tinge of uncertainty. The old Peter wouldn’t have appreciated not knowing – he understood the curious rush of not knowing now, though. He understood it and was quickly becoming addicted.

An invigorating feeling rushed over Peter when he walked into Iron Man’s Wednesday night. He managed to get his wrists taped exactly the way he liked him – the simple act leaving him feeling pretty damn good. Getting into his shoes and hand wraps was easy by then, the process just as relaxing as the pull of breath in and out while he punched – Peter settling into that easily when he got in front of one of the heavy bags to warm up. His feet felt a little heavy from the lack of movement throughout the day, but the sluggish feeling quickly wore off and he was moving seamlessly around the bag – totally lost in thought. The best part of boxing for Peter over the past couple months of attending the classes was the fact that he could just let go – there weren’t many places for Peter to do that. Something told him more than one thing in the boxing gym would give him that – but he’d be patient and see how it played out.

There turned out to be only three people that day – so Peter ended up sparring with Happy, the other owner of Iron Man’s Boxing Gym. The man was a few years older than his co-owner, though his arms were still heavily muscled, and his reaction time came as easily as the next trained boxer. It felt surprising, to do so well in the ring with someone of Happy’s size and abilities. Peter expected to be ass over face on the mat – tripping over his feet in the worst of ways, or something. Yet, he moved pretty easily, navigating the tarp of the ring like he’d been learning it intricately for weeks (which, well – he kind of had.) The few punches Happy was able to land were going to ache and there’d be bruising – but the satisfying way the older man held up a hand in defeat would forever be one of his favorite memories. The first taste of success was luscious – so delightful in fact, Peter found himself wanting more.

“Up for a tumble in here, Stark?” Peter asked, his upper half leaning against the ropes of the ring, a bottle of water in his hand. “I want to see what good foot work looks like,” Peter’s quip was met by the middle finger from Happy and a solid snort from Tony. The man didn’t waste another second and got suited up – his boxing gloves a dark red, the color a nice contrast to the dark blue of Peter’s own. They hit fists in the middle of the ring and then Tony was moving forward swinging.

Pete didn’t stand a chance and laughed heartily when he hit the mat for the fifth time in a row – his ass tender and body sore from the few hits he managed to take before getting swept off his feet. When he threw up his hand, Tony tossed off the gloves and helped Peter up, a shit eating grin on his face. “You’re not half bad, Parker. Get your kit off and come to the office, I’ll give you some ice for that eye of yours.” Tony pointed towards the rapidly swelling shiner he was sporting – the evidence of a fight well fought.

Peter couldn’t keep the grin from his face as he got out of his shoes and unwrapped the stupid amount of protective stuff around his wrists. He needed his hands to do his work and knew the precautions were silly – but they made him feel better, so he did them, anyway. Finally done and in a clean shirt, Peter’s eye was starting to throb – Tony’s proffered ice would be a welcome addition to ease the pulsing ache in his face. This time, though – he didn’t feel helpless, he felt strong and the bruise was another reminder of how far he’d come. Entering into the office, he was met with the same sight from last week – Tony Stark without a shirt, sweat clinging to him. He couldn’t decide if the man did it on purpose, but the sight was worth the confusion – he’d watched many pornos that started just like this. Biting his tongue, Peter felt himself color at the thought, oh how he wished that was true.

Instead, a break and use ice pack was tossed his direction – the coolness of it hitting him immediately. “Thanks, Tony,” Peter mumbled gratefully, his eyes closing to soak in the relief. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone move that fast before. What did you do before you owned this gym? You must have boxed, right?” Peter asked, the sound a little muffled by the ice pack against his face. He sat on the one chair in the office, a huff leaving his lips. “My friend MJ told me I should Google you, but I thought you might tell me about it, instead.” He bit his lip to stifle the laugh that tried to escape – Tony’s eyebrow shot up, the man stopping himself halfway through the process of putting his shirt on.

“You’re telling me you don’t know who I am, Peter Parker?” Tony shook his head and smiled wide – “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

The older man shifted and got the shirt on – a rush of disappointment running down Peter’s spine at the loss of the sight. He shifted a little, his eyes taking in Tony’s movement, the man leaned against the edge of his desk – his crossed arms pressing the muscles of his arms up, giving them more shape. Sucking in a breath, Pete forced himself to focus – though it was getting harder by the second. “I boxed professionally until the MMA craze hit – then I changed shit up and got my ass beat for the big bucks for a few years. It’s all fun and games until you fuck up your back enough to warrant either fighting more or walking the rest of your life.” One of Tony’s hands moved through the scruff on his chin, his fingernails brushing back and forth against it. A nervous gesture, a tick he can’t control – so odd a sight coming from such a well put together man. “Now, I teach cute characters like you how to box. Which, you’re pretty good at, by the way. Sorry about your eye.”

Digesting all the information, Peter let the ice pack drop from his eye – a couple blinks bringing his vision back into dual eye focus again. “I kind of like it. I earned this one. Besides, don’t act like I didn’t get a couple of good shots in on you. I saw that bruise on your side,” Peter gestured towards the left side of Tony’s body with the ice pack in his hand. “I’ll sign it, if you want.” They both laughed at that and Tony took a couple steps towards Peter, a hand reaching out to grab the ice pack. Peter gave it up easily and then let out a surprised huff when that same hand grabbed his and pulled a second later.

Coming to his feet, Peter’s entire body started to flush, the feeling of Tony pressed up against him better than any fantasy he’d been dreaming up the past couple of weeks. “Maybe you can just kiss it better, instead?” Tony’s words were barely audible, the space between them diminished down to nothing but the distance of a shared breath.

There wasn’t any reason to waste the opportunity he’d been given, so Peter pressed in and closed the distance between them. He assumed he read the room right and got a very nice confirmation when the echo of a moan could be felt against his lips. Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck and pulled him closer, his fingers tangling in the strands that were still wet with sweat. Tilting his head, Peter deepened the kiss, a soft groan of his own leaving his lips.

The sound leaving his lips left just enough room for Tony to slip the tip of his tongue into the warmth of Peter’s mouth. Their tongues tangled together, the sweet heat of taste and warmth overwhelming – disorienting in all the right ways. It was obvious that Tony’s plan was to map out every inch of his mouth – so Peter let him, his lips and skin tingling in all the places that the older man touched or pressed against. Peter hadn’t experienced such sensory overload since his teens – it felt a little silly to be so hard pressed already.

Tony pulled away first, their lips breaking apart suddenly – then little chaste pecks were placed against Peter’s lips. It was hard to catch his breath between all of the stimulus, but Pete tried his best – his entire body on fire, the overload of it all fresh and new, exciting in its intoxication. “That could probably be arranged. Want to go grab some food first?” Peter tightened the fingers in Tony’s hair for a second, bringing their faces together for another kiss with the grip.

“I know the perfect place.” Tony nodded and slotted their lips together for a handful of soft barely there caresses. “I would love to grab food at this perfect place. Is what I’m wearing okay? I didn’t think I’d be doing anything other than walking to Buck’s.” He felt Tony brush their noses together before the older man pulled away – creating a little space between them to cool things down, take them back to a place where control was still the name of the game.

“You look great,” Peter replied easily, and followed the older man out of the office.

As Native New Yorkers, neither drove a car around, so they set off towards one of Peter’s main haunts on foot.

\----

Enjoying the night air with Peter by his side helped to ease some of the boiling heat still threatening to overrun all the control systems in his brain. It was a little cool, and the sneaky brushes of their arms together every few steps were just on the right side of too cute. The saccharine sweet nature of it making his head spin. It didn’t take long for them to stop in front of a small looking building that was darkly lit on the outside, but the flash of neon lights could be seen through the windows. “I haven’t been to Two-Bits in forever!” Tony exclaimed, noticing the name on the door. Opening it and walking in, Tony was instantly brought back to a summer night a couple years ago. He beat Happy’s ass at Tekken and they drank the rest of the night away taking turns playing Silent Hill. It’d been years, but there were fond memories of the little bar. The fact that the seemingly marvelous Peter Parker decided it was first date material – well, that just might mean he’s the one.

The look on Peter’s face might have sealed the deal, too. He could see the joy of doing at least this part of the date right radiating from his eyes – Tony understanding the pressure of picking the most suitable location. Boldly, he reached out and grabbed the younger man’s hand, knotting their fingers together. “Good idea, Pete.” He stayed upfront and pressed a kiss to their joined fingers – a smile on his face at the blush that creeped up into the swell of Peter’s cheeks. “You must’ve known I was looking to beat your ass twice in one day,” Tony broke the cute moment with a little joke – typical Stark style. It didn’t matter, though – Peter let a gasping laugh fall from his lips. He watched the other man shake his head before he was getting tugged inside, both of them now eager, eager and ready to spend time together and see if their spark went a little further than dancing around the ring and casual small talk.

Peter was a good host and got them a couple drinks right off the bat. The bar didn’t do too much in the way of organized food, so they grabbed a couple of appetizers and spent most of their time waiting for sustenance playing the Back to the Future pinball machine nestled in the corner. There weren’t many people that were able to keep up with Tony video game wise, but the second time Peter got a score higher than his, he conceded that Peter was in fact an equal – if not better than him. The food was a good break from the intensity of their competitiveness and begrudgingly delicious. “How did you get so good at pinball? I’ve never had someone not only beat me, but actually kick my ass,” Tony mumbled halfway through a cheese stick – his entire body on fire from the feeling of excitement. Excitement from being out with Peter, excitement from spending a whole night playing video games – hell, excitement from simply enjoying time with another human being.

“The bodega I worked at during high school had an old pinball machine – and the place was never busy. Del Mar would give us each a quarter and let us play until there weren’t any balls left from that quarter. I got so good that I would spend entire shifts behind the pinball machine instead of doing my actual job. He stopped giving us quarters after a while, but I never stopped playing. My dormmate at MIT and I spent a bit of money and had a machine in our room for the couple years we lived together,” Peter didn’t take a breath the entire time he talked, his eyes glowing with the memories of the good times in his life – Tony liked the look, it was stupidly suiting for the precious guy sitting in front of him.

“You hustler, you,” Tony replied after a while. He shot a wink in Peter’s direction and was delighted with the blush that came creeping up that pale skin.

“To be fair, you let me pick the game. Who picks a game they’re shitty at when they’re trying to impress someone?” The question sat between them for a second, the meaning of it creeping under Tony’s skin.

“Consider me impressed already, Peter Parker. You can let me win the next few games.”

And he did – at least, Tony figured that was the case. They moved on to Galaga – which Tony played often in what the kids today would call vintage arcades. He grew up on the game and it wasn’t surprising that he racked up the points. Peter didn’t attempt to step in and take the controls, either – the man seemed more than willing to stand by Tony’s side and watch with glee. Then, they went head to head in Ms. Pac-Man, the kid’s hand-eye coordination was a little better than his at that point, so he conceded defeat after a well fought third game in which they both finished with sweat on their brows and huge smiles on their faces. When they moved on to the next game, Tony let himself be pulled close by an arm around his waist – he threw his own arm around Peter and narrowed the distance between them even more. “This is a lot of fun,” he murmured, the words more than likely lost in the jumble of Peter’s hair. His lips lingered to press a soft kiss against the side of Pete’s head. The words were true, too. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself so much.

They finished the night at the punching bag game – which made a lot of sense, all things considering. Tony watched Peter pull a hand back and hit the bag pretty hard – though his technique was all wrong. “Do that again. This time don’t swing back like you’re trying to throw a baseball. Go square through it – like you’re trying to get a punch in right down the shoot.” As he spoke, Tony moved enough to be able to get behind Peter, his hands wrapping around the man’s limbs until he was shadowing the other completely. “If you imagine that’s my face – I bet it’ll make things easier.” Tony’s words were mixed with a laugh and he felt Peter shiver in his embrace. A soft smile played across his lips and he let himself soak up the feel of Peter against him while he took him through the flow of the movement – the last couple passes a bit gratuitous, if he were being honest.

The look of pure joy on Pete’s face when he doubled his score with the next quarter was totally worth it. He watched the younger man pump his fist in the air and dance from foot to foot – his victory chant ending abruptly when he swung his arms around Tony’s neck and pulled him into a tight embrace. “You’re the best teacher I’ve had, Tony. You make it seem so easy. Thank you.” Peter looked at him the entire time he spoke, the intensity of his gaze almost overwhelming – though Tony hoped this wasn’t the only time he’d get to understand this feeling.

Tony wrapped his strong arms around Pete’s hips and kept them both in the embrace. “You’re welcome. I’ve been in the nitty gritty – it’s easier to impart wisdom when you’ve been in the shit. I’m just glad there’s smart guys like you that actually like what I’m putting out there.” They shared a smile and Peter nodded; his eyes still bright – the shine in them so easy to get hooked on.

“I think I just like you,” Peter said in a whisper, the space between them minimal, each word bouncing off Tony’s skin instead of sounding in his ears first. “I like you and I think coming to class to see you – to watch you do your thing – that’s been the best part of this. Learning how to protect myself was the original purpose, but now I think I want to learn more about you, too. Does that sound okay? I’ve had a lot of fun tonight and think we could probably spend nights like this having even more fun.” Peter finished his thought by pressing their lips together.

The touch was chaste, and Tony didn’t have enough time to even respond – but it was perfect all the same. To think he started today thinking he might ask Pete to Bucky’s again – that he might try and get a read on Peter’s interest. He never thought he’d be here – wrapped up in Pete’s embrace – on the verge of getting to do this more than just one time. What a concept. “It sounds perfect, Pete.”

Tony leaned forward and pressed their lips together again, the same chaste nature of the kiss there – they didn’t spend much time actually letting themselves get comfortable in the affection, they were in public after all. Though he needed to pull away to keep himself under control, Tony kept a hand on Peter for the rest of the night. He didn’t beat up on the guy like he figured he would – Peter was unsurprisingly very good at all the games he led Tony to, but the time he spent losing was the best use of 120 minutes he’d ever experienced. Leaving the spot, Tony was almost reluctant. The night was too good to end – so, he clung to it just a little while longer.

“Could I walk you home? I’ve had such a good time tonight, I don’t think I’m ready for it to end,” Tony hated to admit something like that – hated to let someone else see any sort of weakness, but sometimes it felt kind of good to step outside his comfort zone and actually try for something he wanted for a change.

“Yeah, you can definitely walk me home, Tony.”

The slim fingers between his own felt right – like their fingers were perfectly meant to fit together. The thought made him squeeze those fingers, the contact drawing a lifted brow from Peter. “This side of you surprises me,” the other said, breaking the easy silence between them. “A big part of me thought you’d be all reserved like you are in class. Like maybe you’d crack a smile or something, but you’re – y’know, a sweetheart.” Tony chuckled at that, Peter’s observation wasn’t wrong, though – the last time he’d been called a sweetheart, he was five and was pretending he didn’t just break a thousand-dollar vase.

Most people quickly found out he was not that sweetheart and left him to his gruff nature. Peter didn’t seem like the type to be easily ran off, however. He’d seen a couple different sides to Tony and so far, he didn’t seem too disturbed by them. “You’ll have to keep that last part a secret. I’ll lose all my street cred if you go around saying stuff like that too much,” Tony’s response was a default one, a thought he figured Peter was aware of. He felt a similar squeeze to his fingers and heard a soft chuckle as a reply.

“Your secret is safe with me, Tony Stark.”

Peter didn’t invite him up. Instead, he pulled the hand he’d been holding to him and produced a pen out of nowhere – the digits that ran across the palm of his hand were thankfully enough to be a phone number. He capped the pen and pressed a kiss to the palm of Tony’s hand, right over the numbers. “If you’re up for it, I’d love to see you again. Now, you know how to reach me,” Peter kept Tony’s hand in his the entire time he spoke, the tone in his voice saucy – just on the right side of flirty. Tony couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from his chest and the smile that remained was one he’d quickly come to find belonged solely to Peter. “You got it. Thanks for tonight, Pete. I had a great time.” The words were easy and the way they moved together to seal their lips in a kiss was even easier.

\----

That Friday found the two of them together again, this time, at Coney Island. They rode the teacups until Tony was puking up the two corndogs he’d shoveled into his mouth when they first walked in – it was absolutely perfect. When Tony walked Peter up to his door, the man did not invite him in again. The other’s lips were fleeting and this time – the kind of teasing that said there were things to come, things that were totally worth the wait. The rest of the weekend was spent texting back and forth – and Sunday night ended with Peter falling asleep on the phone, the sound of his soft snores the thing that lulled Tony to sleep himself. Meeting up again on Monday, Tony could feel the shift between them. Peter’s touches were much more determined, and the air felt charged – for whatever reason, it felt like they’d reached a new level.

Which made a lot of sense when this time, Peter did invite Tony in. In fact, Peter’s lips and hands were demanding the second they cleared the threshold of the apartment’s entrance. For the first time in many, many years, Tony thought he might not be patient enough to get his clothes off before he came all over himself. Luckily, Peter lived on the fourth floor and the flights of stairs were not a ridiculous task to take on. They only ended up pressed against the wall twice – quite the feat considering how far Peter’s tongue was down his throat and how much Tony wanted to plaster him to the wall and take what he’d been thinking about for longer than he cared to admit. A sigh of relief fell from Tony’s lips when Peter was able to get the key in the door. Of course, he probably could have stopped peppering the man’s neck with kisses and halt all the distractions – but where was the fun in that?

With the space between them still existent, Peter took advantage and stripped his shirt off – the garment and his house keys flying across the room with a careless flip of his wrist. Tony only got far enough to close the door, slip his shoes off and get his socks from his feet before Peter was back in his space, demanding his focus and attention. Things that Tony were totally into giving to the other – his hands wrapped around Peter’s hips and grabbed greedily at the globes of his ass. The move pulled them flush together and he felt the heat of Peter’s excitement against his thigh. “I haven’t felt this much anticipation since I was a teenager. I both can’t wait to fuck you and want to drag it out as much as I can. You drive me crazy, Peter Parker. Absolutely crazy,” Tony broke away from the other just long enough to get the words out and as he spoke, he pulled his own shirt off. The press of their chests together pulled a joint moan from both men – the sound getting lost between them. Tony didn’t have a clue where they were going, so he let his attention move to the planes of Peter’s skin, each inch of it a feast of unmarred flesh and subtleties that made up the man in his arms.

A little more fumbling found them down the hall, finally ensconced in the comfort of Pete’s bedroom. The bed was a decently sized queen and the right kind of firm. Tony was surprised to feel himself be pressed back against the bed, but he didn’t fight it – he liked the weight of Peter across his lap, the strong legs the other was building through his time boxing were hard and clenching where they were wrapped around him. Peter gasped when Tony thrust up against him, the open button of his jeans the only thing bringing any semblance of relief. At least his cock wasn’t hard as nails and pressed against the teeth of his jeans.

“We’re wearing way too many clothes. Take them off, will you?” Tony mumbled against Peter’s lips, the two on an oxygen break between kisses. He felt the other nod and watched with wide eyes as Peter got up off of Tony and onto his feet on the floor. The process wasn’t slow and seductive – but no less sexy, regardless. Peter pulled his jeans off first and kicked them away – the socks and boxers combination way more adorable than it should have been. His boxers came off next and the confident way he stood there butt ass naked was the cherry on top.

Tony didn’t wait to disrobe himself once he caught sight of the entire package in front of him. Pete’s limbs were long and well-muscled – the definition not nearly as severe as Tony’s, but there all the same and perfect for the smaller body. His stomach rippled with each breath – Tony promised himself that he’d learn what it felt like to have those muscles bump against his face while he licked every inch of each one of them. The best part, though, was the subtle blush that tracked across Pete’s cheeks and forehead, down his chest and pecs, until it stopped just above Peter’s groin. The crimson flush was the perfect map of Peter’s arousal and manifested into a thick erection that was pressed straight out in all its dignified glory. A swell of spit flooded into Tony’s mouth; his entire body eager to finally get a taste.

Now naked and entirely too impatient, Tony shifted until he could reach out and grab Peter, his hands greedy in the way he pulled the other back on the bed. This time, he instructed that muscled back to press against the mattress and settled between the v of Pete’s thighs. A surprised gasp slipped through his teeth at the feel of their erections slipping together – the first nude touch of heated flesh absolutely divine. Tony distracted himself with Peter’s skin and attacked it with his lips – his tongue made the tracks and his lips followed along the path. At the end of this, he wouldn’t be surprised if Peter was littered with red marks and bites from the eagerness of Tony’s affections.

“Fuck, Tony. More – touch me, put your mouth on me. Anything,” Peter’s words were panted out, broken in their delivery. A flash of goosebumps spread across Tony’s skin and he felt himself moan again.

“What do you want? What can I give you Pete?” The response was immediate, and Tony wasn’t sure how much he needed to hear the answer until the words were out in the open. He didn’t know too much about dealing with feelings or mastering this type of relationship – he couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t beat his way out of any type of situation that dealt with more complex feelings than hunger. The simple fact that Tony didn’t want to hurt a single hair on Peter’s head spoke volumes, though. Even an emotionally stunted person like Tony knew importance came with caring – and damn did he care about Pete. The feeling crept up on him and now that it was out in the open, it felt right.

Peter’s mumbled out request to be fucked made Tony chuckle against his skin and tap on his hip. “Turn over, Petey. Your ass is too delicious to not get a taste,” Tony said, his entire body flushing from the dirtiness of his words. The truth of the matter was, however, that Tony wanted a taste of every inch of him and intended to do just that – eventually. His focus now was the beautiful length of Peter’s back and the crease between pert cheeks – each globe of Pete’s ass a marvel in and of itself. Tony started by running his hands along what seemed like miles of skin, the muscles under his fingers twitching each time he caught a sensitive part of Peter’s flesh. His fingers continued moving until they were between those beautiful cheeks, both thumbs pulling them apart to reveal Pete’s clenched pucker. Teasingly, Tony huffed out a warm breath just to watch the muscles flinch and clench – the flutter of that hole like a straight shot to his already aching cock. The pad of his right thumb traced around the muscle and pressed in ever so slightly. The gasp from Peter made his entire body shift and suck in more of Tony’s thumb. This time, it was Tony’s turn to moan.

Done with the teasing, Tony tucked in – his tongue circling the hole first, then pressing in like he’d done with his thumb. He couldn’t help the way his hips thrust forward, his untouched cock yearning for a little bit of friction. The cold air kept him in check, though – each squeeze of Peter’s ass around his tongue was almost too much and the contrasting sensations kept him just on the right side of the edge. Peter was incredibly responsive, the sounds leaving his lips like music to Tony’s ears – and incredibly distracting to boot. Each one sent a solid ball of arousal bouncing down the maze of his insides, pulling him closer and closer to that precipice. By the time Tony could fit most of his tongue and a finger into Peter’s tight heat, both of them were delusional with want – Peter was thrusting back against Tony’s face, and the older man was using his free hand to press a barely there touch to his cock, just enough to take the edge off.

“Lube and condoms?” Tony said after removing himself from his now favorite spot, his goatee totally soaked with his own spit – the man known to be enthusiastic in everything he did, eating out included. A hand shot out and pointed towards the one bedside table in the room, Peter’s hips were still thrusting back against him – the man obviously totally done for. Tony didn’t spend much time prepping any further, either. He lubed up two of his fingers and slowly let them slip inside Peter’s tight heat. The stretch felt like fire burning, slow to start then suddenly overwhelming. He pulled his fingers back out and scissored them, the motion pulling a long shout from the man below him. “Fuck – fuck! I need you, Tony – please,” Peter was practically begging, the wantonness of it too much. Tony pulled his fingers free after another couple of passes in and out. Peter felt stretched enough and he was quickly losing himself. This man would be the death of him – the passion and want seeping out from all of his pores was everything Tony hadn’t known he wanted.

Entering Peter felt like coming home. He felt a little cheesy thinking that, his higher brain functions a little out the door now that carnality was finally winning. Yet, it was the only way to describe how easily their bodies joined together and how good they looked when Tony glanced down and stared at the place where they were joined completely. His cock pulsed, the way they looked stupidly attractive and so hard to look away from. Flipping Peter over so he could see his face was one thing – this sight was something else completely. A clench around him brought him back, though – those beautiful hands pulled his face down and they were kissing. Tony got lost in the caress of their mouths and his hips moved on their own accord. Pete’s legs were wrapped tightly around him and he moved seamlessly with Tony – each coordinated drag of their bodies making the big finale inevitable and coming sooner than either was ready for.

Tony didn’t think he could experience something that would change him but watching Peter cum was a new experience. The pinch at the corner of his eyes and the way his mouth dropped wide open was – it was enough to pull him right over the edge with him. Tony forced his eyes to stay open as long as possible, he wanted to remember this experience. The force of his orgasm eventually forced his eyes to shut and the intensity of it had him burying his face into the crook of Peter’s neck. “Holy fuck,” Tony gasped out, his entire body drained, each limb heavy with satisfaction.

He felt Peter’s arms wrap around him and a kiss pressed to the side of his head in answer.

\----

_We held on tight, for dear life._

In a lot of ways, dating Tony Stark didn’t change much of anything for Peter. His job demanded the same amount of attention, he got to see MJ a couple times a week, and Wednesday’s were always spent in Iron Man’s Boxing Gym. Of course, in the time between Wednesday’s and his hangouts with MJ, Peter spent most of his time in Tony’s company. When they weren’t in the gym, they were hanging around the small garage Tony kept all of his projects in and when they weren’t doing that, they were tangled up together in some way. Whether that was at Two-Bits getting their arcade fix or on Tony’s big sectional couch not paying attention to Breaking Bad on the flat screen tv – things were good. Peter couldn’t remember ever being treated in the way Tony did – like he was something worth having in his life. Tony went out of his way to make him feel good, if not great on those better days. There were a lot of things different between them, but that kept things interesting. For the first time in a long time, Peter felt cared about. Cared about in a way that made him feel safe and sound – like Tony would be there if he ever needed him.

Which, Peter did – lots of times. The closer it got to the anniversary of the attack, the more nightmares and flashbacks Peter found himself having. He tried to pull back from everyone, to divest them of the burden of his emotional instability. For a while, he figured being by himself was much more important than having people that cared about him. Tony didn’t let that thought remain for very long, though. The second time Peter missed Wednesday night class, Tony was there knocking on his door. He tried to disguise his worry with a styrofoam bowl of chicken noodle soup and inquiries about him being sick – but Peter could see a little bit of sadness and terror in the other man’s eyes.

In all of his worrying and dragging himself away, Peter didn’t think for a second how any of his actions might have affected Tony. At that point, they’d been together close to six months – and a sudden disappearance would have worried anyone that attached. For the first time in 14 days, Peter stepped aside and let someone in. Holding him in his arms later that night, Tony pressed a kiss to the side of his head and whispered another something that would change Peter forever. “Don’t push me away, okay? I’ll be here. I care about you, Petey. I’ll be here.”

The following few weeks were much better for Peter and the times he thought about pulling away – Tony kept him grounded. Instead of turning away, Tony taught him to take his anger out on something that couldn’t hit back – so, he took to swinging at the heavy bag whenever he got the chance. Tony’s classes were teaching him the art of boxing – Tony’s private lessons taught him the art of decompression and how to unleash anger in the most productive of ways. Every time he let himself get lost in the sound of his fists hitting the bag, Peter would resurface and feel so much better.

Sometimes Tony joined him – he would hold the bag and throw taunts his way or camp out at the bag next to him and add to the sound of fists and hitting and the bag swinging. And sometimes – well, sometimes Tony left him to himself. There were many instances that a quick look between them said more than any words could. Tony would pull a couple bags out of the closet, hang them up, and then retreat into the office. Those times were his favorite. Not because he didn’t like learning from Tony or being in his presence – but mostly because it felt good to be so well known by another human being. Quentin’s example of what a significant other should be didn’t even come close to the reality of Tony.

Which was proven to him again a couple weeks later. Tony convinced him to take an early lunch so they could hit a small brunch place just opening up. His boyfriend tried for days to get the morning off and Peter easily agreed to join him. In their time together, Peter was slowly learning the subtle delicacies of life and for Tony Stark, the main one was food. Watching Tony enjoy one of his favorite things in life quickly became something Peter didn’t want to miss out on – so he joined him almost every time the man asked. This new place was rumored to have the best waffles, anyway – Peter couldn’t possibly pass up on something like that. It didn’t hurt, either, the fact that Tony strolled into his building and asked for him by name. Of the people that knew of Tony, he got looks of interest and slight jealousy. The rest of his office stared open-mouthed as they walked out together, the beautiful man’s arm wrapped firmly around Peter’s shoulders.

Their time in line went by pretty pleasantly and the meal was better than either of them expected. Peter’s waffle was one of the best he’d eaten in a long time. When they left, Peter was floating from the high of being with Tony and having a full belly – he was so preoccupied, he didn’t see Quentin until a hand on his shoulder was stopping their movements. Looking up, Peter sucked in a harsh breath – the man who so carelessly tossed him out on his ass was standing right in front of him. The petty part of Peter was glad that he didn’t look all that good. The pretty boy appearance no longer carefully kept – the hair that was meticulously done up looked longer than Peter remembered it ever being and a lot greasier, too. He looked like shit and a huge part of him, one that was trying so hard to win out, wanted to laugh in his face. So much for better off without me, Peter thought.

Peter forced himself to blink a couple times before he even thought to speak. “Quentin.”

The hand in his own tightened and Peter could feel the question in the squeeze. “Peter Parker. It’s great to see you, babe. You’re looking great,” Quentin said, the hand still on his shoulder giving him a squeeze – the uncomfortable feel of his touch a total contrast to the safety he felt with Tony’s hand clenched in his own. He tried to come up with something to say but was beaten to the punch. He should have known Tony would pick up on what was happening – the man was incredibly perceptive and insanely protective.

“He’s not your babe. He does look great and you’re kind of in the way,” Tony’s voice was an octave Peter hadn’t heard before – the tone a little frightening, honestly. He looked over at Peter, his brow raised in that signature arrogant Tony Stark look. “We’re off to live happily ever after,” Tony’s smirk was evident, and he returned it with his own grateful look. Tony Stark to save the day. Peter pressed a kiss on his cheek in thanks – the man a total hot head, but absolutely amazing.

“And we might never come back. If you’ll excuse me, Quentin,” Peter finally got out, his smile growing at the look of confusion on his ex’s face.

The laughter they dissolved into not even a block later was the last little bit of healing Peter needed. For the longest time, he’d been debilitated. Quentin Beck took his trust and twisted it until Peter didn’t trust himself. Getting thrown out of that apartment all that time ago was the best thing to happen to him – he knew that now. The feeling of Tony’s arm wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him close was worth all the heartbreak and recovery it took to get back to the person Pete knew he could be.

It wasn’t all on Tony – Peter knew giving the man that much credit would only create a rift in their relationship, and he didn’t want that. Most of the work came from deep within him and the confidence he got back was probably the thing that landed him Tony in the end, anyway. No, for Peter, Tony was the guiding light that kept him on track. The older man could keep him grounded and when he didn’t remember the path that he was on, Tony put his arms around him and held him close until he found his way again.

There were many things that could be said about a person that didn’t try to control or push – many things that wouldn’t even come close to doing them justice. Tony’s presence in his life brought a type of peace that Peter couldn’t remember ever searching for. Understanding his self-worth made it easy to appreciate how Tony felt about him. And in the end, Peter found himself falling in love with the man every single time he didn’t float away, every time the teether back to the ground came from one Tony Stark and the simple way he could make Peter feel like the strongest person on the planet. He didn’t know much about the future or what it held in store for him, but boxing and Tony were two things Peter knew wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. In fact, he had a long way to go if he ever intended on putting Tony on his ass. There wouldn’t be any peace between them until that happened.

Later, when Peter found himself in the tangle of Tony’s arms, he felt happiness boil over the edges. They didn’t do a lot of talking about their feelings and each man seemed to appreciate that in their own way. For some reason, Peter couldn’t hold himself back – if he did, he might actually explode. “I love you, Tony. I love you and I’ve probably never been happier. Never.” Peter’s words were muffled by the skin of Tony’s chest, but he knew the other heard him. That chest under his head fluttered – with bated breath and the slight quiver of nervous excitement. Tony’s fingers stopped the tracing they’d been doing over the skin on his back and dug in ever so slightly. Those arms were tight around him by the time Tony collected himself enough to say anything back.

“I know. I love you, too. Have for a while. I hope you’re happy enough to stay. There’s no one else this world seems quite right with.” Tony pressed a kiss to his head to cover up the vulnerability of his words. Peter recognized the gesture and leaned into it – his heart forever growing for the complex man surrounding him.

Snuggling into the warmth there, Peter felt himself sigh with contentment.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for tagging along! The next part of Thunderstruck is sitting in my drafts waiting for a final edit - so that'll be on its way soon. If you're digging the AUs and want to see some of your own ideas, leave a comment below. If you just want to stop in and say hello, I'm not against that, either. 
> 
> I’m ohwereusingourmadeupnames on Tumblr. Follow me there if you’d like! 
> 
> You guys reading gives me life - && muse! 
> 
> Stay classy AO3.


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